Mission Accomplished
by The Exile
Summary: Everything's back to normal for Samus. Ish. Set after the events of a multi-fandom video game tabletop RP I was in and before the events of Super Metroid. Starring the main character of my original fic 'Forty Levels Away'.
1. Chapter 1

_Its over. Mission accomplished._

My ship's fuel gauge wakes me up, beeping irritably at me. I hear another noise. A series of high-pitched little squeaks. I reach down and rub the top of the Metroid with the back of my knuckles. Metroids like it when you do that... I think...

"It's okay." I mutter, "Mommy's home now."

Another, louder squeak, and the little gelatinous green ball jumps up and hovers just above my head, extending its feelers.

"Oh no you don't." I warn it. It seems to sense that it's being told off. Circling me warily, it floats back down to where I can see it. I smile and try to hug it, but it immediately slips out of my grasp, squeaking in protest.

"You're going to have to get used to Mommy going away." I told it. I like responding to what it says, even though I have no idea what its noises mean and it probably can't understand me either, "She's a busy woman. But she'll always come back."

Still, no child deserves to lose its mother...

Memories of the final fight flash through my head like one of those slide projector things the archeotech team dug up a couple of months ago. As the target sight locks on to enemy, flashing red, I fix it an unblinking stare, like a hawk sighting its prey. Then I fire without mercy.

I look down at my hands now. The glowing lines no longer cover my armour, my gun no longer flares with a rainbow light. Interlace is gone as well, and with it, all contact with my new comrades. I only met them briefly. Already, I sort of miss them. Its rare to find someone you can trust to watch your back these days. Not that I'd ever let Sora watch my back.

"Its just you and me again." I say to the Metroid. It rolls 360 degrees in the air and emits an ear-piercing squeak.

The comm system beeps. I'm being hailed. I open a channel.

_"Samus? Its the Ceres station. Any luck with retrieving the Metroid?"_

"Oh? Er..." I shake my hair out of my eyes. Its been a long time. I've forgotten what the hell I was doing. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Excellent! Return it to the lab at once!"

My hands automatically plot a course for Ceres, just like they've done a thousand times before. The baby Metroid squeaks and starts bouncing from wall to wall, rolling over and over.

_"Samus, what the hell is going on in there?" the voice crackles over the comm channel.  
__  
I smile, reverse course and set the ship to full speed._

"Samus? Come in! Samus! I repeat, answer me! SAMUS!"

I turn the comm system off.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Sir! That's the ship that meets the description, SIR!" _

_Captain Niels Fringbird of the Intergalactic Federation looked at the image on the main screen. It didn't look like a very large ship, although this probably meant it was faster, and his experienced eye could see some impressive cannons on it. Under no circumstances attempt to engage it alone, were his orders. Try and capture rather than destroy, as the stolen cargo was extremely valuable, but if it came to it, make sure there were no survivors. Whatever had gone missing from Ceres – something else those scientists were messing with that they shouldn't, no doubt – it was highly dangerous, so dangerous that it must not be allowed near an inhabited planet._

"_Intercept and fire at my command." she ordered._

My ship's sensors detect the other ships coming out of stealth. I can tell by their formation they're not here to negotiate. I'm surrounded. I don't like being surrounded.

"Brace yourself, this'll be a tough one." I tell my co-pilot, who squeaks in response and hides under my feet. I bring the ship into a roll, firing my primary lasers as I do so. I hit the first ship to get too close. The shields flare up a bright cyan. Now I'm not surrounded any more but three are still bearing down on me. I lock on to the nearest one and zoom in. I recognise the design. _Intergalactic Feds? Oh crap... I'm being pursued by the Government already? C'mon, it's only ONE Metroid! You borrowed it off me in the first place!_

Too late to explain myself now, though. I've already committed a federal offense by firing at one of their craft. A laser bolt slams into one of my own shields, jolting the craft and making the Metroid squeak even louder. Its difficult to manoeuvre the ship when the damn thing is flying around my face!

"Stop that! Its not helping!" I snap, "Go and do something useful! Eat someone!"

Now I know their formation – the Feds always use the same formation – I easily dodge the next burst of laser fire. I return fire, landing a few more hits, then charge the cannons. With my other hand – in between swatting the Metroid out of the way – I enter the co-ordinates for the nearest planet. Any planet. I'm not sure I can win this battle – I still haven't even refuelled my ship – but planet-side I know I can lose a few people following me. If I get there fast enough, maybe I can set up a little trap for them.

"GET OFF!" I yell at the Metroid, who is getting ready to pounce on my head again. Why does it keep doing that? Does it sincerely think draining its mother's energy is somehow helpful in an emergency?

The cannons fire, punching a hole through the hull of the nearest ship. It retreats. The other ships rearrange themselves, giving me the time I need. I divert more power to the shields, kick in the thrusters and get the hell out of there.

--------

My suit identifies the planet as Vermilion III. The planet is terraformed to more or less support life and is currently inhabited. Not densely inhabited – certainly not one of the major trading hubs of the galaxy – but there are a few settlements. I set my ship's security mechanisms to Genocide Mode. That does exactly what it says on the tin - if anyone approaches my ship except me or the Metroid, they get killed in all sorts of interesting ways. I lock the Metroid inside the ship. Not many people are comfortable with a Metroid floating around and I don't want to be thrown out of every settlement on the planet right away if I can possibly help it. The Federation may already have a global warrant for arrest on my ass but I doubt it would be in effect everywhere. Even with the best technology, it would take a while to contact every planet in the galaxy, some planets had too low a technology level to receive signals or didn't have enough of a legal system to enforce a law. Others didn't actually care what the Federation wanted, or at least didn't care enough to take on someone with power armour, laser cannons, bombs and a rocket launcher. Besides, the little guy makes a good auxiliary security mechanism. It enjoys hovering near the doorway and pouncing on people's heads as they walk in.

Vermilion is a dusty red planet, a little like Mars. My boots raise clouds of dust as I walk through the endless crimson desert, following the route that my suit's sensors tell me is the way to the nearest settlement, a small town. After a wander through the streets – the locals give me funny looks but I ignore them completely – I find a small space port with a fuel station. As this is an industrial town, it's an industrial port, built for loading cargo onto and off trade vessels, dwarfed by gigantic machinery and structures of scaffolding almost as rusty as the desert sands. I don't have any cash that would be accepted on this planet so I use my Card. The Galactic Standard Credit Card works anywhere.

The card reading machine beeps frantically and displays a red light. The vendor swears at it and thumped it a few times.

"Damage my card." I tell him, "And the laser cannon goes where you don't want it."

"It doesn't work anyway." he says, "Sorry, ma'am, but your card's completely unreadable."

After a few more attempts, all failures, I take it back off him and walked out of the shop. Maybe I have damaged it. I try and shield it in battle but I've taken a hit to every area of my suit at least once. Or maybe...

"Card blocked by the Feds, hm?"

I spon around, my movements flowing into a battle stance, gun arm pointed at the stranger's head.

"Samus Aran." he says calmly, an almost sad voice, "Grade Four, Permanent."

-


	3. Chapter 3

"Very clever. You know who I am. Everyone knows who I am. What the fuck is a Grade Four Permanent?" I demand.

"A degree of interplanetary exile." replies the figure. He's male, human, wears some kind of black uniform and has thick brown hair in several braids. He has a slight build but has a confident look about him. He certainly doesn't seem to be afraid of the laser cannon in his face. He just sits there on top of a stack of metal crates and stares at me.

"Permit me to introduce myself." he says, bowing elegantly, "I am Agent Doragor, Grade Eight, Global Shun, Self-Registered. But people around here call me Saturn. Saturn as in not the planet."

"Do you always introduce people like that?" I ask.

"That's how I see people." he says, "I can see your immigration status before I can see your face. Even when you're not in stealth mode. I try to turn it off, God knows how many times I've tried to turn it off..."

You're annoying, I think to myself, and crazy, but I'll let you live because what you're saying is of interest to me.

"So, what you're trying to say is that I've been kicked out of the Galaxy?"

"That's the short version, yes." he says, "Your Card won't work. Not that it will matter soon, because soon no trader in the Galaxy will trade with you. Major planets won't even give you docking permission. Every Federation ship in the Galaxy has your description on their database and will fire to kill."

"Oh, shit." I reply, "Nice of them to bother telling me."

"If your ship's computer was a registered model, not customised beyond all recognition, you would have picked up the message left for you to tell you all this."

"They KNOW my computer isn't..." I begin, then sighed, "Never mind. Thanks for telling me."

"We aim to please." he bows again, "I can help you a lot more than that, you know. I have more experience of interplanetary exile than anyone else you could hire."

"And why would I want to hire anyone?" I ask, "I've been in worse situations than this and survived without help." I paused for a second, "Okay, situations equally as bad as this. Besides, if you really are the expert you say you are, I'm guessing your help doesn't come cheap."

"I imagine it costs roughly the same as help from an expert bounty hunter would." he says, "Which is why I'm asking for services in kind."

"What kind of services?"

"You see, if I was a galactic-class exile, the self-reliant type who knew they could handle it, and I had my own ship, I'd completely remove my ship's registration with the Federation, then go to a planet where nobody's going to give a damn whether I'm registered or not."

"I can think of a few good candidates." I say, thinking of Brinstar. Nice this time of year. Lots of plants. Lots of food for the Metroid. Nobody else stupid enough to go near it.

"And that's exactly the sort of ship I desperately need to be on right now."

"I get you."

"Of course, its entirely your choice. You're going to be on very limited supplies from now on, because nobody in the galaxy will sell you any."

Or I could just go and give the damn Metroid back, I muse. Then a thought occurred to me.

"Just tell me one thing." I say, "This warrant... especially the whole 'shoot to kill' thing..."

"Ye... eeeessss?" he takes a small black ballpoint pen from somewhere and starts fiddling with it nervously. I realised I've involuntarily made my visor do scary things again.

"Does it apply to my... immediate family?"

"Generally speaking, ma'am, all exile does."

"We're getting out of here right now." I say, turning my back now.

"Excellent."

"I wasn't talking to you."


End file.
